


Stay

by HalfshellVenus



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Community: supernatural100, Drabble, M/M, Male Slash, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-21
Updated: 2015-06-21
Packaged: 2018-04-05 10:17:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4176084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HalfshellVenus/pseuds/HalfshellVenus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>3x100 slash drabbles on “Smell” for <a class="i-ljuser-profile" href="http://supernatural100.livejournal.com/profile"><img class="i-ljuser-userhead"/></a><a class="i-ljuser-username" href="http://supernatural100.livejournal.com/">supernatural100</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stay

x-x-x-x-x

**Absinthe**  
Sam’s memory is filled with masculine smells. Dirt. Grease. Sweat. Beer. Fire, blood, smoke. And darker things so rare that other people do not name them: ghost and grave, carrion and crypt… acid and agony… demon magic, death and slime.

Dean’s shirt against Sam’s face was the smell of comfort after seeing too much. Refuge and renewal, like the cleansing scent of rain, it neutralized the horror of the places their father led them.

With Jess, Sam finally found someone who could help him forget about Dean. The irony is that now he uses Dean to help him forget _her_.

 

**Sustenance**  
There is absolution to be found in the hollow of Dean’s throat. Like a forgotten forest, the smell of childhood lingers there. It is a green, living scent, all pine-spice and sunlit grass. It is metaphor and memory, the only constancy Sam knew as _Home_.

He left this all behind, a bedtime story no longer needed. It would wait for his return on some distant, unnamed day.

Sam forgot that the forest needs sustenance too. Left without water, it will wither and die.

This is what he gives back now—the sweet essence of life he so carelessly took away.

 

**Stay**  
Sam moves and lifts above him, but it isn’t quite enough. Dean’s eyes capture Sam’s with wistful longing, even as everything builds, finishes… falls.

This is all Dean ever wanted, though he lost it once before.

The meadow-sweet smell of Sam’s hair rises up from its place against Dean’s chest.

The first girl he’d bedded after Sam went to college had used that same shampoo. When he’d realized, it was all Dean could do to _breathe_. His chest had ached with the weight of drowning, of grief over something he wasn’t allowed to miss.

He still remembers… he’s still afraid.

 

_\----- fin -----_


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